


True Love's Kiss

by spirithorse



Series: Purple Prose AU [5]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, Purple Prose AU, Sorey/Rose is mentioned but really glossed over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8580727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse/pseuds/spirithorse
Summary: A look into the history of fairy tales and their influence on later Shepherd's tales.





	

**Author's Note:**

> talesofsymphoniac [did the thing again with some help from a lovely anon](https://talesofsymphoniac.tumblr.com/post/153239374697/idk-if-youre-still-taking-promtps-but-sort-of). If you've read the others, you know how this sort of thing will go.

## Folk and Fairy Tales Revisited Course Outline

 **Week 1:**  Course outline and syllabus discussion

 **Week 2:**  Discussion of the originals of the folk and fairy tales

 **Week 3:**   _The Beast of Black Castle_  and _The Fall of Shepherd Asura_

 **Week 4:** _The Wives of Councilor Alten_  and _The Chronicle of Aifread_

 **Week 5:**   _The Wishing Fish_  and _The Romance of King Taliesen_

 **Week 6:** Midterms, First Essay Due

 **Week 7** : _The Firebird and Prince Wilheim_  and _The Lady of Ladylake_

 **Week 8:** _The Language of the Malaks_  and _The First Shepherd_

 **Week 9:** _The Fair Rose_ and _Love’s Shepherd_

 **Week 10:** _The Fair Rose_  and  _Sleep Eternal_

 **Week 11:** Selected sleeping princess tales and Selected sleeping Shepherd legends

 **Week 12:**  Final Essay Due

* * *

_Love’s Shepherd_ , Sergei Strelka

> Artorius’ Throne rose above the cracked and broken plain, a tall tower almost too high to consider climbing. Completing this illusion was the pillar of light that rose from the top of the highest spire, a shaft of pure white light that stretched far up into the sky.
> 
> The building was covered in vines and saplings, the start of the new growth that was starting to overtake the shattered landscape. A sign of rebirth under the watchful eye of the white light, although much hadn’t gotten the chance to spread from the tower onto the plain.
> 
> The central rooms of the tower were not much better, stones covered with once grand artistry cracked and listing from the last great battle that had taken place inside of the one grand halls. Plants had started to grow, small plots of green among what had once been glittering white stone. No flowers had budded yet, leaving the impression of time standing still in early spring.
> 
> Shepherd Rose adjusted the pack on her back, staring down the avenue of stems and vines towards the throne at the back of the great hall. 
> 
> It was impossible to see the carvings on the throne, for the greatest collection of plants was there, all of them twining over the top and edges of the throne in their eagerness to reach the person sitting in it. Vines curled around his torso and arms, as light as a lover’s touch to keep him upright. One had even trailed over the top of his head, putting out shoots to look like a crown, like he was one of the kings of old who had sat in the hall.
> 
> Shepherd Rose took a deep breath and stepped forward, her footsteps loud in the forgotten, sacred place. All the while, she didn’t dare to move her gaze away from her lover, who slept peacefully on the throne in front of her.

* * *

_Sleep Eternal_ , Killian Shatterby

> _[Enter **Mikleo, the water seraph** ]_
> 
> _**Mikleo** [with great longing]_ **:**  Long have I lingered here, ensnared by thee.  
>  Long have I watched you sleep, filled with longing.  
>  And though to you the promises I keep,  
>  I wait and bide for this, thy spell to break.  
>  For eyes as green as fields in Elysia - dear  
>  home and hearth and life - to open wide  
>  and mouth to speak my name, both near and true.  
>  For touch and speech and kiss as sweet as life,  
>  and dearer still for all the years passing.  
>  But here I see no breath, no hope, no life,  
>  and so my wait continues endlessly.  
>  I can but wait for years anon, and watch  
>  you, my love, and wait for our ends to meet  
>  or turn and leave you alone again  
>  in sleep united and forever sweet.  
>  One kiss before we part, dear love,  
>  for you to your dreams and I to the sea.  
>  One day we shall meet again sweet Shepherd  
>  and years before I am to be set free.

* * *

## Essay Guidelines

Your final essay will focus on the Shepherd literature and the connection to the fairy and folk tales that were covered in the second half of the semester. It should be between **10 - 15 pages** , **double spaced** , and **correctly cited**  according to GLA style. Topics can be chosen from the list below or be created individually. If you are creating your own topic, please e-mail me with your idea so we can determine if it is suitable.

  * Compare and contrast the descriptions, treatment and actions of the seraphim between the earlier folk tales and the later novels.
  * Using the folk tales, show the change in morality over time and location.
  * Demonstrate the difference in the uses of malevolence as a part of the setting or plot device in the folk and/or Shepherd’s tales.
  * Compare the development of the relationship between Shepherd Sorey and Grand Seraph Mikleo to the development of the relationships of the princess and the prince in _The Fair Rose_ and other sleeping princess tales.



* * *

_The Storms of Glenwood_ , attributed to Álmos of Marlind

> It falls on towns and pleasant fields  
>  and travelers on their merry way,  
>  but it lingers long in Camlann  
>  where the rains locked in sorrow stay.
> 
> They fall, bright tears from the heavens,  
>  down through the crumbling walls,  
>  into the very stones of the throne,  
>  until on the lips of the sleeping one they fall.
> 
> And here does one heart stutter  
>  and break and cease to beat,  
>  until the kiss of that blessed sweet rain,  
>  brings the Shepherd to his feet.

* * *

_To That Lost in Camlann_ , Oscar Schwenke

> The stair below the high altar had become his preferred place, the stones worn smooth by his presence.
> 
> Mikleo played with one of the plants that was endeavoring to grow through the cracks in the stone, encouraging it with a touch of his artes. The plains below Camlann were already filled to the brim with flowers, all brought by himself or by the others that came to do homage at what they thought of as Sorey’s grave.
> 
> He turned his head to look at the still form of the Shepherd on the table, watching for a breath that would not come. 
> 
> He had caught Sorey breathing once, but that had been a few thousand years ago. Apparently, it was not necessary for the purification process, but Mikleo wished that it was. It was bad enough that so many people spoke of Artorius’ Throne as a tomb, he didn’t need the chance to fool himself into joining them.
> 
> Mikleo let go of the plant, pushing off of the stone to stand up. He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t stay in the old shrine. He’d done that once, and ended up sitting on the step for one hundred years, too reluctant to leave his lover to the passage of time. It had taken Zaveid and Edna to convince him to move away, but he always came back. He had to. He and Sorey were bound too closely not to.
> 
> He took the final step up to the altar, carefully placing his hands on the edge of the table. It was tempting to touch, but Sorey had no life in him. No warmth, no personality; only a slow heartbeat. It was no wonder that the people who came and saw him thought him dead.
> 
> Mikleo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before leaning over. The one touch that he would allow himself was a kiss on Sorey’s forehead, a promise that he would be back and a consolation to himself.
> 
> Except he slipped. The iron control that he had held himself back with for the past seven hundred years deserted him. And his lips touched Sorey’s.
> 
> He jerked back in shock, raising trembling fingers to his lips. He pressed them there, too caught up in the way that his breaths were coming in sort gasps to hear the soft sound of Sorey breathing out. But he didn’t miss the twitch that went through the Shepherd’s body, nor the way that familiar green eyes opened slowly after being so long closed.
> 
> “Mikleo?”

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I hate iambic pentameter. I attempted and probably got it wrong. Hats off to you Shakespeare.~~


End file.
